1. On Clearchus as a student of Isocrates and Plato see Memnon FGrH 3B, 434 F1.1; Aelian fr. 86 Hercher (= Suda s.v. Κλέαρχοζ); Isoc. Ep. 7.12. This aspect of Clearchus’ earlier career is not directly mentioned in the Letters, but it seems nonetheless to be alluded to in Letters 7, 8, 16 and 17.

2. On the chronology of Clearchus’ tyranny see Burstein, S.M., Outpost of Hellenism: The Emergence of Heraclea on the Black Sea (Berkeley/Los Angeles/London 1976), 51–65Google Scholar.

3. The most thorough discussion of this issue is that of Malosse, P. (ed. and tr.), Lettres de Chion d’Héraclée (Salerno 2004), 75–105Google Scholar, who concludes (104) that it was most likely written in Constantinople in the 4th century CE by a pupil or associate of Libanius. Most however opt for a date some time in the 1st century CE. See Düring, I., Chion of Heraclea: A Novel in Letters (Göteborg 1951), 22f.Google Scholar; Rosenmeyer, P., Ancient Epistolary Fictions: The Letter in Greek Literature (Cambridge 2001), 235Google Scholar; Konstan, D. and Mitsis, P., ‘Chion of Heraclea: A Philosophical Novel in Letters’, Apeiron 23 (1990), 258CrossRefGoogle Scholar; Lana, I., ‘La lotta al tiranno nell’epistolario apocrifo di Chione di Eraclea’, PPol 7 (1974), 265–75Google Scholar, at 275.

4. That the Letters of Chion constitutes an epistolary novel is now almost universally accepted, though not the proposition of Düring that this makes the collection ‘unique’ (Düring [n.3 above], 7). On the genre in general see Holzberg, N. (ed.), Der Griechische Briefroman: Gattungstypologie und Textanalyse (Tübingen 1994)Google Scholar; Rosenmeyer, P.A., ‘The Epistolary Novel’, in J.R. Morgan and R. Stoneman (eds.), Greek Fiction: The Greek Novel in Context (London 1994), 146–65Google Scholar, and her fuller treatment at Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 133–252. On the Letters of Chion as an example of the genre see Düring (n.3 above), 17f., 23–25; Zucchelli, B., ‘A proposito dell’epistolario di Chione d’Eraclea’, Paideia 41 (1986), 13–24Google Scholar, at 21–23; Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above), 257–79; N. Holzberg, ‘Der griechische Briefroman: Versuch einer Gattungstypologie’, in Holzberg, op. cit., 1–52, at 28–32; Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 234–52; Griffin, F., A Literary Study of Epistolarity in Chion of Heraclea: Reading the Text as a Chiopaideia (MPhil Diss. Cambridge 2004)Google Scholar. On the other hand Malosse (n.3 above) in the introduction to his edition (1–8), despite acknowledging the work’s status as a structured collection with a clear focus on ‘l’évolution psychologique du héros’ (5), in the end shies away from this generic classification, preferring to term it ‘inclassable’ (8) and ‘un objet étrange’ (1).

5. One of the Vatican mss (C in Düring’s edition) has Letters of Chion the Platonic Philosopher from Pontus and one of the Paris ones (3021) Letters of Chion of Pontus; the addition forges a link to that other famous philosophical Pontic and seeker of wisdom in the Athens of Speusippus and Aristotle, Heracleides. Geographical identifier becomes a cipher for tyrannicide: Diogenes citing Demetrius of Magnesia tells us that Heracleides Ponticus also liberated his native Heraclea by killing its dictator (δοκε[001] δὲ καὶ τུν πατρίδα τυραννουμένην ἐλευθερ[001]σαι τòν μóναρ μó˯αρχo˯ кτείναϛ, DL 5.89). On this see Burstein (n.2 above), 134 n.128. Cf. Robiano, P., ‘Cotys le Thrace: anachronismes, onomastique et fiction dans les Lettres de Chion d’Héraclée’, REG 104 (1991), 568–73CrossRefGoogle Scholar, at 571–73, where the fact that one of Chion’s associates is named Heracleides is seen as linked to this tradition.

6. Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 249: ‘Chion as “hero” guides the plot, developing from shallow youth to dedicated good citizen’; Düring (n.3 above), 17: ‘[The author] presents Chion as a young nobleman who through his education in Plato’s Academy becomes an ardent adherent of these maxims, prepared to sacrifice his life to prove their truth’; Malosse (n.3 above), 4: ‘L’évolution psychologique du jeune homme, qui passe d’une bonne volonté un peu maladroite et guère efficace à une maturité habile et resolue…’; Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above), 273: ‘…philosophy is exactly the instrument by which the hero learns selflessly to carry out his glorious task’.

7. So e.g. Costa, C.D.N., Greek Fictional Letters (Oxford 2001), xixGoogle Scholar: ‘We are still in the world of the declaimers and their favourite themes.’

8. This to my mind is methodologically preferable to turning Chion into a mouthpiece for philosophical ideas supposedly current at the time the work was composed, as for example Lana (n.3 above), 266–75. See further n.69 below.

9. See further p.44 below.

10. DS 16.36.3, Memnon FGrH3B 434 F1.4

11. Hdt. 5.55–56; 6.123. Herodotus’ narrative carries its own implications of failure in that the murder of Hipparchus for which Harmodius and Aristogeiton were responsible simply served to ‘enrage’ (έξηγρίωσαν, 6.123) the actual tyrant Hippias and exacerbate his feelings of ‘bitterness’ (έμπικραινομΝνου, 5.62) towards the Athenians, as a consequence of which the tyranny became more extreme than it had hitherto been (μετ[001] τα[001]τα [001]τυραννύοντο ’Aθηνα[001]οι [001]π’ [001]τεα τέσσερα ο[001]δ[001]ν [001]σσον [001]λλ[001] κα[001] μ[001]λλον [001] πρ[001] το[001], ‘after this the Athenians were subjected to tyranny for seven more years, one which was not only not diminished but greater than before’, 5.55). Burstein (n.2 above, 134 n.128) claims that Trogus’ version is intended to ‘[draw] a parallel between the death of Clearchus and that of Julius Caesar’, but there seems little other than the motif of deception to link the two events.

12. Just. ep.Trog. 16.12.17 : qua re factum est ut tyrannus quidem occideretur, sed patria non liberaretur (‘wherefore it happened that while the tyrant was killed, their fatherland was not liberated’).

13. Memnon, FGrH 3B, 434 Fl.5–2.2; cf. Burstein (n.2 above), 65. It is true that Memnon specifies the conspirators’ children as being the target of Satyrus’ reprisals, but this is by way of portraying Satyrus as the archetypical tyrant slaughtering the innocent; it is I think safe to assume that other close family members would not have been immune.

14. Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above), 277f., note this fact but regard the question of whether it imparts an ‘ironic undertone’ to the narrative as ‘perhaps moot’. As will become apparent, I see it as anything but ‘moot’. Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 249, acknowledges the aftermath, but goes on to say ‘the novel itself ends before doom descends, on a note of hopeful martyrdom’. But to my mind the descent of doom is foreshadowed by the very fact that Letter 17 contains such exaggerated expressions of ‘hope’. The parallel I would cite is Shakespeare’s Henry V, where the unbridled optimism and good feeling of the final scene is undercut by the unhappy historical reality (already presented on Shakespeare’s stage in Henry VI parts 1, 2 and 3) of the King’s early death and its consequences. Shakespeare is able to use his Chorus to draw attention to this (Henry V Epilogue 1–14); having chosen the epistolary form our author has precluded himself from this facility, leaving the reader to supply the necessary information to appreciate the point. Cf. Trapp, M., Greek and Latin Letters: An Anthology with Translation (Cambridge 2003), 218Google Scholar (ad 17.2): ‘[T]o the knowledgeable reader, there is irony here…’; the author in my view is writing for the ‘knowledgeable reader’.

15. See Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above). Later in the article (272) Konstan and Mitsis come much closer to the truth when they write: ‘Taken as a whole, the story narrated in the letters does not seem designed to inspire political engagement or tyrannicide so much as to provide an exciting tale of a wise and courageous youth, who dies in a blaze of glory.’ Yes, the focus is on the youth; the issue is whether he is in fact ‘wise’ or ‘courageous’ (the latter I think we can concede but the former is problematic) or indeed does ‘die in a blaze of glory’. Certainly he thinks so; but does the author invite his readers to share Chion’s perception of his own actions?

16. Likewise Costa (n.7 above), 179; cf. also During (n.3 above), 83.

17. Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above), 278, refer by way of comparison to the set of debating topics Cicero sets for himself at Att. 9.4 which cover various aspects of this issue.

18. Compare Plato’s Symposium, where the author explores the ways in which each participant’s views on eras is inextricably linked to and determined by his character. See Penwill, J.L., ‘Men in Love: Aspects of Plato’s Symposium’, Ramus 7 (1978), 143–75CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

19. Cf. Griffin (n.4 above), 9, who aptly cites Demetrius On Style 227: πλυ[001]στον δ’ [001]χέτω τ[001] [001]θικόν [001] [001]πιστ¿θή [001]σπερ κα[001] [001] διάλογοϛ σχέδον γ[001]ρ ε[001]κόνα [001]καστοϛ τ[001]ϛ [001]αυτο[001] ψ;υχ[001]ϛ γράϕει τ[001]ν [001]πιστοθήν κα[001] [001]στι [001][001]ν κα[001] [001]ξ [001]λλου λόγ¿υ παντ[001]Ϙ [001]δυ[001]ν τ[001] [001]θοϛ το[001] γράϕοντοϛ, [001]ξ ο[001]δυν[001]ϛ δ[001] [001]ϛ [001]πιστολ[001]ϛ (‘The letter, like the dialogue, should most of all display character; for in writing a letter just about everyone provides an image of his/her own soul. It is in fact possible to see the writer’s character emerging from every other form of composition, too, but from none so much as the letter’). See also Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 250: ‘It [sc. the epistolary form] allows the novel more introspection and deeper character delineation …’

20. The text is that of During (n.3 above). Translations are those of J.L. Penwill, Letters of Chion, in Morales, H. (ed.), Greek Fiction: Chariton, Callirhoe; Longus, Daphnis and Chloe; Anon., Letters of Chion (Harmonds worth, forthcoming 2011)Google Scholar.

21. Cf. Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above) who several times allude to Chion’s unwavering loyalty to his family (e.g. 261, 264, 273).

22. Thus it is not a case of Chion setting off on his journey ‘somewhat unwillingly’ (Rosenmeyer [n.3 above], 234); it is his parents who are the unwilling ones.

23. Düring (n.3 above), 19, seemingly convinced that the author must be following epistolary theory in his construction of these letters, employs the list at Ps.-Libanius On Epistolary Form 4 to classify each of them; likewise Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 246. This first one is consequently classified as παραμυλητική, a letter of consolation. That of course is what it ought to be; if the author is in fact aware of the theorists’ classifications, it seems to me that he is playing interesting games with their Procrustean definitions.

24. There is thus more to be seen in this than a simple case of ‘reciprocity in the bestowal of benefits’ (Konstan and Mitsis [n.3 above], 260).

25. On Letter 10 see further pp.34 and 41 below.

26. Rosenmeyer (n.4 above), 255: ‘…a wise man proclaiming a philosophy compatible with an active life.’ It is I think reasonable to suppose that Chion’s meeting with Xenophon is what leads him to highlight this aspect of Plato’s teaching in this short letter.

27. Rosenmeyer (n.4 above), 255.

28. So Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 239: Chion’s account of his meeting with Plato is ‘quite understated after the fulsome hero-worship of Xenophon’.

29. Perhaps ‘I’ would be more appropriate here. The author has Chion employing the first person singular and plural indiscriminately when referring to himself, sometimes within the same sentence (e.g. 14.5 [001]γραϕον…[001]σμέν, ‘I wrote…we are = I am’). In the translations I have preserved ‘we’ for the first person plural except where it is obvious that ‘I’ is required.

30. On the way in which Chion is captivated by Xenophon cf. Rosenmeyer (n.4 above), 154.

31. Xenophon gives us his version of the speech at An. 7.1.25–31.

32. Cf. Costa (n.7 above), 180 (ad 3.1): ‘In fact it was against Socrates’ advice that…Xenophon joined the expedition to assist Cyrus…’ He does not develop the point however.

33. Both in the matter of overcoming Plato’s professions of reluctance to accept gifts. Cf. [001]νεστι κα[001] Πλϕάτωνα σοϕίζεσθαι [001]δωροδόκητον [001]ντα (‘I can also circumvent Plato’s habit of not accepting gifts’, 6). For the language and function of Letter 10 see pp.34 and 41 below. Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 242, rightly draws attention to the ‘undertone of boasting’ in Letter 10, though it seems to me more than just an ‘undertone’.

34. Düring (n.3 above), 84: ‘The author has read the Anabasis, but most of what he relates here is pure fiction…. Our author takes odds and ends from his various sources as it suits his purpose.’

35. See esp. Malosse (n.3 above), 78–80; also Düring (n.3 above), 15.

36. The whole Byzantine incident is narrated at Xen. An. 7.1; according to Xenophon it was Koiratidas and his extravagant promises of plunder to be gained in the Thracian Delta that induced the troops finally to leave the city (7.1.33–41).

37. Cf. Rosenmeyer’s valuable observations about epistemological issues in the epistolary novel and the criteria by which the reader is enabled to judge the accuracy of the fictive writer’s perceptions (Rosenmeyer [n.3 above], 246–49).

38. Cf. Costa (n.7 above), 179: ‘Chion’s aim [is] to stress the dominance and charismatic power of Xenophon in a crisis.’

39. Cf. Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 249: ‘It [sc. Chion] enters into the game of intertextual reference; thus, the Xenophon episode described in Letter 3 depends, for its impact, on the reader already knowing Xenophon’s account of the event.’

40. Malosse (n.3 above), 25 n.14.

41. Arat. Phain. 158f., 679–82; see discussion at Kidd, D., Aratus: Phaenomena (Cambridge 1997), 240fGoogle Scholar. (ad 158).

42. It is true that Xenophon states that the army’s move to Perinthus occurred in the middle of winter (An. 7.6.24) and the fact that it was the middle of winter meant that they could not contemplate sailing home (An. 7.3.13). It is also true that the author links Chion’s move from Byzantium to Perinthus with Xenophon’s (see below), which might lend more credence to Chion’s prediction of stormy weather. But it remains the case that his astronomical observations are seriously confused and all other maritime operations pass perfectly smoothly.

43. Xenophon’s motive in the speech is to make the situation of the Greeks appear as desperate as possible so as to enhance his achievement in getting them out of it and justify his decision to join forces with Seuthes; reading this speech against his earlier narrative suggests that Xenophon himself is embellishing here.

44. On the relationship between Chion Letter 10 and Plato Letter 13 and the power-plays involved cf. Griffin (n.4 above), 29–31. See further p.41 below.

45. It is of course highly doubtful that Letter 13 is authentic, but equally highly probable that the author of the Letters of Chion thought it was (cf. DL 3.60–61 where Thrasyllus included all 13 epistles in the final tetralogy of Plato’s genuine works), so for the purpose of this argument I am treating it as if it were in fact genuine.

46. The violence of this military metaphor (with connotations of the Latin expugnare) betokens a disturbing attitude towards his master on the part of this student; it also suggests that Chion regards logoi in a manner much more like Gorgias or the Euthydemus/Dionysodorus team than Socrates or Plato, a means of bettering your opponent rather than uncovering the truth. On the analogy between rhetoric and the martial arts see PI. Grg. 456c-457c, Euthd. 271a-272b.

47. Cf. Robiano (n.5 above), 570: ‘L’auteur anticipe, par le procede de la mise en abyme, le dernier episode de la vie de Chion. Dans les deux cas, le disciple de Platon triomphe du tyran…’ Robiano draws attention to the tradition that the Thracian king Cotys, son of Seuthes, was assassinated by two young former students of the Academy, Heracleides (that name again) and Python (Philostr. VA 7.2), and postulates that by choosing the name Cotys for Chion’s would-be assassin the author is alluding to this (568–70).

48. Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 247f.

49. On the analogy between sickness in the body and sickness in the state see Plato Ep. 7 330c-331a; Rep. 372e, 544c, 556e. Costa notes a verbal echo of the last passage in Chion’s formulation (μικρ[001]ϛ ∼ μικρα[001] [001]οπαί Chi. [‘small shift(s) in the balance’]: Costa [n.7 above], 182). The irony here is that in the case of Heraclea, despite Chion’s assassination of Clearchus, the ‘disease’ did become entrenched: Clearchus’ family retained absolute power in Heraclea until his grandsons Clearchus II and Oxathres were deposed and executed by Lysimachus in 284. See Burstein (n.2 above), 83–86.

50. For elucidation of this complex and somewhat opaque argument see Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above), 265–69. However, rather than inviting us to spend time teasing out what Chion is getting at, it seems to me that it is primarily this opacity that the author wishes us to notice. This is Chion’s take on the Socratic proposition that care of the soul is more important than care of the body (with possible allusion on the author’s part to the courage displayed by Zeno of Elea when tortured by the tyrant Nearchus: DL 9.26–28, DS 10.18, al.); it reads much more like a pompous student essay than a well thought out philosophical position. We should remind ourselves once more that character is the main focus of the epistolary genre; it is the sort of person that could conclude an argument of this kind with τό γ’ [001]μ[001]ν ο[001]κ [001]πιμελείαϛ [001]λλ’ [001]λιγωρίαϛ δε[001]ται (‘concern for me is absolutely unnecessary—don’t give it a thought’, 14.5) that we should be thinking about.

51. It is very tempting here to cite Tacitus Annals 1.4.1: igitur uerso ciuitatis statu nihil usquam prisci et integri moris: omnes exuta aequalitate iussa principis aspectare, nulla in praesens formidine, dum Augustus aetate ualidus seque et domum et pacem sustentauit (‘And so with the changed condition of the state there was no longer anything of its traditional upright character; equality now discarded, it was the princeps’ commands that everyone looked for, there being no fear for the present while Augustus was in his prime and maintaining himself, his family and peace’).

52. (‘but this must be obvious to you as well; I’m glad you now find both my style of discourse and my method of delivering these letters safe and secure, and are finally admitting that it was not just some crazy idea of mine’, 15.3).

53. In Letter 12 Chion talks vaguely about ‘being of use’ (ώϕελ[001]ν) in 13.1 of ‘taking political action on my country’s behalf’ (—cf. 14.5 where he says he feels ‘compelled towards political action’ [] by the situation); also in 14.5 he talks in general terms of being prepared to die for his country but does not specify the circumstances; in 15 he argues that the tyrant must be deposed but does not say anything about assassination. Rosenmeyer (n.3 above), 243, claims that Letter 14 ‘explicitly’ talks about Chion’s determination to slay the tyrant, but this seems to me to be wrong.

54. In this letter Chion lays great stress on ‘omens from sacrifices and the flight of birds, in fact all forms of divination’ (17.2) as foretelling both the success of his undertaking and his death, and later alleges that Plato shares his confidence in these omens and visions. Malosse (n.3 above) 71 n.81) and Trapp (n.14 above, 218f.) adduce Tim. 71a-72b together with Phdr. 244a-e and Apol. 33c, but admit that the evidence for Plato’s belief in divination is pretty thin (‘Platon est beaucoup plus prudent que Chion sur la valeur qu’il faut accorder a la divination’, Malosse; ‘none of the Platonic passages…goes so far as to say that the soul always foresees truly’ (Trapp; emphasis original). In fact it is Xenophon, not Plato, who is so reliant on and confident about divination; throughout the Anabasis he represents himself as consulting the gods, interpreting dreams or (most commonly) taking omens from sacrifices to determine or confirm what course of action he should take (e.g. 3.1.6–8, 3.1.11–13, 3.5.18, 4.3.8, 4.3.17–19, 5.2.9, 5.3.7, 5.4.22, 5.5.3, 5.6.16, 6.1.22–24, 6.2.15, 6.4.9, 6.4.15–22, 6.4.25, 6.5.2, 6.6.35–36, 7.2.15, 7.6.44, 7.8.5, 7.8.10, 7.8.20). By assuming that he shares it, Chion would appear to be challenging Plato to accept and endorse this Xenophon-tic view of the way in which the gods underwrite human action and thus that they are doing so in this instance also.

55. There is another possible allusion here. According to Aelian, Clearchus while a student at the Academy also had a dream in which he was addressed by a woman: (‘This Clearchus had a dream vision of some woman saying to him “Get out of the Academy and shun philosophy; it is not fitting for you to enjoy her benefits, for she regards you as her greatest enemy’”, Aelian fr. 86 Hercher = Suda s.v. ΚλΠαρχοϛ). This was the turning-point of Clearchus’ life, as he went from there, seething with resentment, to serve under Mithridates son of Ariobarzanes, satrap of Hellespontine Phrygia, with whose assistance he subsequently seized power in Heraclea (Burstein [n.2 abovel, 47–51). That the same dream figure who expelled Clearchus from the Academy should now seemingly be endorsing Chion’s proposed action underscores the polarity between the two; and her use of the word [001]χθιστον, ‘greatest enemy’, adverts to the issue of ‘helping friends and harming enemies’ which I will be discussing in the next section.

56. The personification of Hesychia at 16.8 is clearly modelled on Socrates’ personification of the Laws at Crito 50a-54d. See Costa (n.7 above), 185.

57. It is clear from the tone of this letter that Chion regards himself as a philosophical martyr in the tradition of Socrates; that he should have a ‘Socratic’ dream is thus perfectly understandable psychologically. The ‘beautiful tomb’ is inspired by Chion’s conviction that he deserves and will attain his ‘prizes of victory’. In other words it is Chion’s mental state that has induced this dream which he here parades as further divine endorsement of his action. On the issue of ‘self-induced miraculous visions’ in ancient fiction cf. Harrison, S.J., Apuleius: A Latin Sophist (Oxford 2000), 246Google Scholar, a propos the dreams and visions of Lucius in Book 11 of Apuleius’ Metamorphoses.

58. The knowledgeable reader would of course be aware of the flaw in this prophecy, in that it is extremely unlikely that Chion would have received a tomb of any kind. This is a clear signal that we should treat this dream with some circumspection.

59. See esp. 15.2, which can essentially be reduced to this syllogism.

60. (‘I know that I shall be killed’) says Chion (17.2 init.); it is tempting to see here an echo of Memnon’s use of the same word in describing the fate of his fellow conspirators (, ‘they were killed after enduring agonising tortures’, FGrH 3B, 434 F1.5), which is immediately followed by the account of vengeance taken on innocent children and others by Satyrus. This would become another hint inserted by the author directing us to the consequences of Chion’s action.

61. On which see Woozley, A.D., ‘Socrates on Disobeying the Law’, in G. Vlastos (ed.), The Philosophy of Socrates: A Collection of Critical Essays (Garden City NY 1971), 299–318CrossRefGoogle Scholar, at 306. Needless to say the view I adopt here of Letter 17 is diametrically opposed to that of Lana (n.3 above), 273: ‘L’ultima lettera…contiene I’estremo messaggio che riafferma la fedelta del discepolo al maestro…’

62. I follow Malosse (n.3 above), 36, in regarding this sentence as part of what Matris is to say to Archepolis; During (n.3 above), 58, places the closing quotation mark at the end of the preceding sentence.

63. The irony would be compounded for a reader aware of the historical tradition that Clearchus was also a former student at the Academy (see p.24 with n.l above). If this were so, he would already be familiar with the arguments Chion puts in this letter and thus all the more likely to fall victim to the deception. The reason Chion does not mention it would presumably be his awareness that given the circumstances of Clearchus’ departure from the Academy (see n.55 above) this is a sensitive issue.

64. Lana (n.3 above), 272f., defends Chion’s use of deception here, citing Quintilian’s argument that there are circumstances in which the good man will find it appropriate to lie (10 12.1.36–43) and Seneca’s assertion that ‘I can act in any way I please towards a tyrant’ (Ben. 7.20.1). But since we are judging (and I believe are invited to judge) Chion’s behaviour in light of the teachings of Plato’s Academy (see p.24 with n.8 above), such considerations seem to me irrelevant.

65. Cf. 15.2, where one of the ‘benefits’ of harsh tyrannical rule is said to be that ‘everyone plays a greater part in guarding and taking precautions to preserve their democracy’ ().

66. As Tragus’ account makes clear, it was faction strife in Heraclea that brought Clearchus to power in the first place (Just. ep. Trog. 16.4.1–7; cf. Aelian ap. Suda s.v. Κλέαρχοϛ, 5–7, Burstein [n.2 above], 47–54). Chion’s political activity simply serves to continue it. In fact factionalism seems to have been endemic in this polis from the time of its foundation: see Arist. Pol. 1304b31–34, 1305b35–37, 1306a37-b2.

67. Cf. Thuc. 3.82.5: , (‘Anyone who succeeded in a plot was deemed intelligent and one who detected a plot cleverer still; but the one who took precautions against the need for either of these was considered a potential destroyer of the party and fearful of those on the opposite side’).

68. See esp. Rep. 555b-576b.

69. Griffin (n.4 above), 27–32, offers an interesting and thoughtful analysis of the intertextual relationship between the Letters ofChion and the Letters attributed to Plato, noting that the latter is ‘[t]he chief text with which Chion explicitly engages’ (27). However, we need to be careful here to distinguish between the author and his protagonist. Had ‘Chion’ not been in italics, I could well agree with this proposition. Chion the character is certainly engaged in a ‘critique’ of Plato, but this is not necessarily also true of Chion the work. Rather, as was the case with Xenophon’s Anabasis, we should be using our knowledge of Plato to ‘critique’ Chion, to consider the extent to which he loses sight of the lessons he should have been learning at the Academy.

70. It is also pertinent to note that Plato, despite arguing that the tyrant is the worst and unhap-piest of men, nowhere explicitly endorses tyrannicide; in fact at Ep. 7 331c-d he says that the ‘right-thinking man’ (τ[001]ν [011]μϕρονα) will certainly speak out if he feels that his polis is badly governed, but will not engage in violent action. See Billault, A., ‘Les lettres de Chion d’Heraclee’, REG 90 (1977), 33Google Scholar; Griffin (n.4 above), 27f.

71. Düring (n.3 above), 93, claims that the κέρδοϛ is employed here and in Letter 8 ‘in a somewhat faded sense’. In fact there is nothing ‘faded’ about it at all; it functions as it is intended to function, as index of the way Chion regards his quest for virtue in terms of ‘profit’. This goes right back to Letter 1 where he talks of himself as άθλόϕοροϛ and demands yet bigger prizes from his parents; and it recurs in Letter 17 with the νικτήρια (‘prizes of victory’) he anticipates he will (posthumously) win. On this thematic link between Letters 1 and 17 cf. Holzberg (n.4 above), 30.

72. There is more here than the ‘gentle satire’ of which Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above, 276) speak. Both instances show Chion challenging his teacher, seeking to beat him into submission by turning his arguments against him. You say you regard tyranny as the worst form of government both for community and individual; well, here / am doing something about it. Trapp (n.14 above, 219) speaks more appropriately of a ‘hidden barb’, although it does not seem to me all that ‘hidden’, nor singular. The allusions to Socrates and Xenophon in Letter 17 (see pp.36f. with nn.54–57 above) clarify the barbs as Plato is by implication weighed against both Socrates and Xenophon and found wanting. Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.

73. On awareness of ignorance as a necessary precursor to the desire for knowledge see e.g. PI. Meno 84a-d and Symp. 204a-b.

74. On this issue cf. Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above), 261–63.

75. 1 think it is safe to assume that the friends alluded to in Letter 9 will have formed part or all of the conspiracy to assassinate Clearchus, the συνώμοται of whom Chion speaks in the final sentence of 17.1, although given the emphasis Chion places on himself and the role he is to play, it is easy to forget that he does have accomplices. The other members of this conspiracy are variously named in the historians: ‘Leon, Euxenon and many others’ (Memnon); ‘Leonides with 50 others’ (Tragus); ‘Leonides and Antitheos’ (Aelian). Tragus and Aelian add the detail that the other named individuals were also philosophers. Malosse (n.3 above), 82f., finds it ‘astonishing’ that none of the other conspirators is named either here or anywhere else in the collection, but it is clear that in this letter to Plato Chion is intent on focusing his master’s attention on to himself. Griffin (n.4 above), 7–9, sees this as part of the ‘heroisation’ of Chion, but it is a heroisation that the author has Chion himself effecting by suppressing the names of his co-conspirators; once again we are invited to judge Chion’s account in light of what the historical record shows.

76. I of course borrow this phrase from Winkler’s seminal work on Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, where the issue of the relation between author and first-person narrating protagonist raises similar methodological problems: Winkler, J.J., Auctor & Actor: A Narratological Reading of Apuleius’ Golden Ass (Berkeley and Los Angeles 1985)Google Scholar.

77. Konstan and Mitsis (n.3 above), 272.

78. Griffin (n.4 above), 16f.

79. Cf. Trapp (n.14 above), 217f.: ‘The names [of these attendants] are well-omened: "Pylades" recalls Orestes’ faithful companion in the assassination of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus…’ But there is more here than simply a good omen; the author is signalling a functional intertextual relationship.

80. In the Odyssey Orestes is portrayed in a very positive light; but there he is presented as responsible only for the death of Aegisthus, a perfectly proper vengeance for the murder of his father. Even when the death of Clytemnestra is mentioned at 3.310 there is no suggestion that Orestes had any hand in it. Pindar Pyth. 11.36f. certainly has both Clytemnestra and Aegisthus as victims of Orestes’ vengeance, but in the lines immediately following (38–40) the poet shies ‘whirling away’ (έδινήθην, 38) from the sequel. Sophocles’ Electro is the only version of the saga which presents both matricide and no furies. Sophocles is deliberately confronting us with a version in which Orestes displays no doubts about the correctness of his action—on the basis of an oracle which we only have his word for (El. 32–37) and which for some strange reason he does not relate to the Paidagogos until they are back in Argos—and experiences no retribution. See Ewans, Michael, ‘Dominance and Submission, Rhetoric and Sincerity: Insights from a Production of Sophocles’ Electro’, Helios 27 (2000), 123–36Google Scholar, at 125f.

81. On the internal chronology of the Letters see Malosse (n.3 above), 75–78; Holzberg (n.4 above), 29; Zucchelli (n.4 above), 15f.; Billault (n.70 above), 31f. The telescoping of time in fact achieves three outcomes important for the novel’s thematic design: (1) Chion remains young; (2) it enables the meeting with Xenophon to be included; (3) Clearchus’ coup becomes the motive for Chion’s curtailing his studies and returning home.

82. The thesis of Griffin (n.4 above); see esp. 18–21.

83. That the mentality of the suicide bomber is a relevant issue here is suggested by Helen Morales in the introduction to Morales (n.20 above). See also Dietrich, J., ‘Death Becomes Her: Female Suicide in Flavian Epic’, Ramus 38 (2009), 187–202CrossRefGoogle Scholar, at 199f., where it is similarly raised with respect to the women in Flavian epic who kill themselves in order to make a political gesture.

84. Much shorter versions of this paper were given earlier this year at the University of Western Australia and the University of Melbourne. I thank those who heard it on those occasions for their comments and questions. Special thanks are due to the two anonymous readers who provided detailed comments on an earlier draft of the complete version; without their input the finished product would have been far inferior. And finally thanks to Helen Morales for her support and encouragement in my forays into the Letters of Chion both as translator and commentator.